plased jist to lind us the
loan of a gridiron, sir. (_Making a low bow._)

_Frenchman (staring at him, but not understanding a word.)_

_Patrick._ I beg pardon, sir; but maybe I'm undher a mistake, but I
thought I was in France, sir. An't you all furriners here? Parley voo
frongsay?

_Frenchman._ Oui, monsieur.

_Patrick._ Then, would you lind me the loan of a gridiron, if you
plase? (_The Frenchman stares more than ever, as if anxious to
understand._) I know it's a liberty I take, sir; but it's only in the
regard of bein' cast away; and if you plase, sir, parley voo frongsay?

_Frenchman._ Oui, monsieur, oui.

_Patrick._ Then would you lind me the loan of a gridiron, sir and
you'll obleege me?

_Frenchman._ Monsieur, pardon, monsieur--

_Patrick. (Angrily)._ By my sowl, if it was you was in disthress, and
if it was to owld Ireland you came, it's not only the gridiron they'd
give you, if you axed it, but something to put on it too, and a dhrop
of dhrink into the bargain. Can't you understand your own language?
(_Very slowly._) Parley--voo--frongsay--munseer?

_Frenchman._ Oui, monsieur; oui, monsieur, mais--

_Patrick._ Then lend me the loan of a gridiron, I say, and bad scram
to you.

_Frenchman (bowing and scraping)._ Monsieur, je ne l'entend--

_Patrick._ Phoo! the divil sweep yourself and your long tongs! I don't
want a tongs at all, at all. Can't you listen to rason?

_Frenchman._ Oui, oui, monsieur: certainement, mais--

_Patrick._ Then lind me the loan of a gridiron, and howld your prate.
(_The Frenchman shakes his head, as if to say he did not understand;
but Patrick, thinking he meant it as a refusal, says, in a passion:_)
Bad cess to the likes o' you! Throth, if you were in my counthry, it's
not that-a-way they'd use you. The curse o' the crows on you, you owld
sinner! The divil another word I'll say to you. (_The Frenchman
puts his hand on his heart, and tries to express compassion in his
countenance._) Well, I'll give you one chance more, you old thafe!
Are you a Christhian, at all, at all? Are you a furriner that all the
world calls so p'lite? Bad luck to you! do you understand your mother
tongue? Parley voo frongsay? (_Very loud._) Parley voo frongsay?

_Frenchman._ Oui, monsieur, oui, oui.

_Patrick._ Then, thunder and turf! will you lind me the loan of
a gridiron? (_The Frenchman shakes his head, as if he did not
understand; and Pat says, vehemently:_) The curse of the hungry be on
y